Filling in the Blanks
by cherryblossomjen
Summary: Zane's last thoughts as he struggles to free himself from Miss Chatman’s sinking boat. What sparks his obsession with the elusive sea creature? Surely more than a half-glimpse of a tail... Emma/Zane, sort of. Update: Chapter 3, after much delay, is up.
1. Chapter 1

**Filling in the Blanks**

**Note:** This story is meant to explore Zane's last thoughts as he struggles to free himself from Miss Chatman's sinking boat in the episode "Shipwrecked." What sparks his obsession with the elusive sea creature? Surely more than a half-glimpse of a tail. This is my theory ;-). Zane/Emma, sort of, and slightly AU. Special thanks to FaylinnNorse for being such a helpful beta!

* * *

The boat rocked, sinking towards the ocean floor with startling speed. Within a minute, Zane was up to his ankles in salt water, mercilessly trying to find an exit from death by drowning.

Soon the boat was beneath the ocean's surface, but there was still a pocket of air in the cabin that allowed him to breathe. Unfortunately, the air bubble diminished more and more with every second the boat descended.

A heavy armoire had shifted position in the explosion that caused the shipwreck, and now it blocked the only door. Zane pushed it with all his might, his breath labored and shoulders shaking from the exertion. And the cold. The sea water was icy cold, numbing his grip on the armoire. The water level now hovered just above Zane's torso, his heart pulsating faster with every inch the water climbed. Soon he'd be completely engulfed.

The armoire wouldn't budge, but Zane kept at it. He had the unfortunate habit of not knowing when to stop. Obsessive personality, his shrink called it. When his parents split they insisted he visit a snooty old psychiatrist until he'd "sufficiently dealt with the changes" accompanying their divorce. What a joke that had been.

Dr. Shmoozenheim would have loved to analyze why Zane's dying thoughts reverted to jumbled memories of him. "The mind is a curious thing," he'd say, stroking his beard, "always searching for answers, for serenity. You're afraid of dying alone (not an uncommon phobia), so your unconscious mind has recreated an image of me, your kind doctor, in an attempt to find inner calm during an otherwise chaotic experience."

The old man was always digging for boosts to his ego like that, and Zane snorted in a mix of bitterness and laughter, his nostrils producing a trail of northbound bubbles. He watched the tiny marbles of air extending above his head, until even the closest ones seemed to blur -- panic and hopelessness producing an uneasy delirium within him.

Regret. He felt it suddenly, as bursts of images in his mind. He regretted not having a family that loved him, and not working harder to make them love him. He regretted hunting down that crazy old lady. So what if she wrecked his jet ski? It's not like Dad couldn't buy him another. But that was the whole point, wasn't it? He couldn't face his father with another failure, which was exactly how he would interpret any damage to his property.

'You stupid idiot!' Zane thought, the regret taking on a voice of its own, drumming loudly in his head like only regret can. 'Sixteen years old and the only chance you'll make it to shore is as a bloody corpse, rotten and half-eaten by sharks. All because you couldn't stop caring what your jerk of a father thinks.'

Anger surged through Zane, giving him the strength to make one last escape attempt. Rummaging through one of Miss Chatham's drawers, he found a letter opener with a shell base. He pounded the sharp end into the glass window, willing it to break. Pound! Pound! Pound!

Useless. Entirely useless.

He regretted knowing that no one would miss him after he died.

The thought seemed to drain everything out of him. He gave up. To survive things like this you need a reason to live. Zane couldn't think of one.

He stretched his mouth to the roof of the boat, as if kissing it, gasping futilely for what he knew would be his last breath of air before his lungs filled with water.

He floated to the boat's floor, blinking slowly, resigned to his fate. The water was still frighteningly cold, but he felt a gentle warmth come over him. Like a warm blanket, swirling around his frame. It was a feeling he shared with many other sailors who've died on the ocean, a kind of sedative one feels when he surrenders his life to the mercy of the sea.

Suddenly the boat shook, as if struck by something. Zane was too dazed to notice, lulled like a baby in the comforting warmth of the sea's arms.

The boat shook again, harder this time. Zane opened his eyes. The hatch on the door had been ripped off, the walls of his prison suddenly less stalwart. Light from the surface rushed in from the now missing hatch, transforming the cabin's dark water to a bright emerald-blue.

Zane blinked again, his lungs hurting. He was tempted to lull himself back to semi-sleep, but his curiosity wouldn't let him. There was some creature out there, he could sense it.

He saw a glimpse of something gold through the space between the broken door and the wall. Glittery gold like a woman's scarf.

A large goldfish maybe? He always wanted one. A goldfish, that is. But Dad wouldn't let him, he couldn't remember why.

Zane hadn't the energy to move. It took all his effort to keep his eyes open. It was like operating on two hours sleep; at some point the strain of staying awake takes precedence over everything else.

Through half closed lids, he saw the creature entering the cabin.

Zane would have gasped if he had any breath left in him. She swam towards him. Gingery red-blonde hair flowing behind her in streams. A long coppery tail (a tail!) moving with swift, but graceful, motions. That face. Somehow he knew that face. But the lack of oxygen to his brain distorted his vision to the point where he couldn't place it. Whatever. She was beautiful.

And she was a mermaid. An honest-to-goodness, flesh and fin, _mermaid_.

She wrapped her arms around him, which were surprisingly strong, and used her tail to push them out of the spiraling boat.

Still, he knew it was too late. He would die before they could reach the surface. But he wouldn't be alone. He'd die in the arms of a sea nymph. It was the stuff of fairy tales and old-world fantasies. Something he didn't have to regret. He closed his eyes again, content.


	2. Chapter 2

**Note:** Thanks to FaylinnNorse and Poisoned Princess for looking over the second chapter. And a giant chocolate _Cookie-of-Thanks_ to everyone who reviewed and expressed their interest in seeing the story develop.

* * *

**Chapter Two**

The moment she saw smoke emanating from _The Lorelai,_ she knew he was in trouble. And that she'd have to save him.

It might mean jeopardizing her secret. And to no less than the last person she'd ever confide in. But there was no other option. Miss Chatham agreed. But even if she hadn't, Emma would have gone anyway.

Even as she darted through the water she cursed him for being such a stubborn jerk. He wouldn't be in this mess if he'd stopped harassing Miss Chatham. How many times had she told him to back off? Ooh! It was so annoying. And as Lewis and her left the boat, she told him to come with them. But did he listen? No, of course not. That would've been the smart thing to do.

Her rage made her an even faster swimmer than normal. Which was saying a lot, because of the three mermaid girls, she was by far the fastest. She reached the boat, and looked in through the port window.

Zane was floating stiff, in a paralyzed daze.

Oh no. She was too late! Dread welled in her. He'd already drowned. She slammed her tail against the hatch. Clang! Bang! Clang! Until it loosened and she pushed it away, now a crumpled mess. She grabbed him hurriedly, holding him by the waist, and cursing him all over again.

Five minutes. She'd not been gone five minutes, and he manages to blow up (blow up!) the boat and trap himself in it.

She swam and swam. Her thoughts jumbled, focused predominantly on speed, annoyance, and worry. If Zane was going to make it through this he needed air. And soon.

Before she realized it, it was too late to change direction. But in her panic, she didn't take him to the Mainland, where he could go to a hospital and no longer be her responsibility, but to Mako, where there would be no one to help him but her. She compiled her thoughts. She'd have to make due.

She couldn't take him to the moon pool. That was their secret spot. And even if _her_ identity as a mermaid was uncovered there was no reason why Cleo or Rikki should have to lose their special cove as well.

There was a second cave, smaller and darker than the moon pool, where Emma sometimes went to be alone. Not even Cleo knew of it, so she was guaranteed some solitude while there. It was this cave, with its slick gray walls and moss-covered floor, that Emma took Zane. She pushed him from the water, onto the bank and climbed out afterwards.

He lay flat on the ground, unmoving. She approached him, her tail suddenly awkward and clumsy on land. Though Emma no longer touched the water, she was wet and it would be a long time before her fin disappeared.

She focused on trying to help Zane, her tail dragging along the ground and catching stray bits of moss as she positioned herself over him. Touching the base of his wrist, she felt for a pulse. It was faint, but better than nothing. She placed her cheek against his mouth – no air. He still wasn't breathing. Pushing the hair from his face, she felt a warm gooey substance on her fingers. He was bleeding. A head wound. She ignored the panic that accompanied that information. First things first, he needed to start breathing.

She tried pressing her palms against his chest in a mock attempt at CPR, but she didn't really know what she was doing. It wasn't as simple as they made it look on TV and she cursed herself for not having taken a class.

For the first time she regretted not having different powers. If she were Rikki, she could save Zane from hypothermia in under a minute. Cleo could probably coax the water out of his lungs with the wave of her hand.

What could she do -- freeze him? He already felt like an icicle.

Emma closed her eyes and thought for a moment. Chemistry class seemed very far away, but she vaguely remembered that water was different from most liquids. It expands when frozen. Though she wasn't sure how that fact helped her, or more pertinently, Zane.

She took a breath, her mind swimming in circles for any answer that might help.

Finally, a thought struck her. It was crazy, but it just might work. Oddly enough, it was an old Saturday morning cartoon of Superman that made her think of it. The man of steel was engaged in a battle with the usual villain-type, some monster that used poisonous gas as a weapon. Superman defeated him by inhaling the monster's greenish gas in one large intake of breath, and blowing it out in a gust of freezing wind. The bad guy stood, frozen in place when the police stormed in.

Emma's plan, while inspired by Superman's heroics, was slightly different.

She leaned over Zane's body, cupping one hand under his neck and resting the other on his chest, just above his heart. She let out a large, slow breath before closing her eyes and covering his mouth with hers. His lips were swollen and warm, which was a surprise (albeit a pleasant one) considering his body temperature. With concentrated effort, she inhaled. Using the superman technique, she managed to suck out some of the water from his lungs. On the first try, the transfer of water formed a misshaped ice cube in her mouth.

Her breath was ragged. She took her hand from Zane's chest to remove the ice cube from her tongue, looking at it briefly before tossing it aside and trying again. Four make-shift ice cubes later, and Zane was coughing up what little water remained in his throat and lungs.

An overpowering sense of relief surged through her. He'd come too close to not waking up. Emma's hand still lay near Zane's heart and she could feel it pulsating again, though somewhat erratically.

Zane tried to sit up but Emma pushed him down with her palm. "Don't move," she said. "You need to rest."

"I'm fine," he said, his voice crackly and weak. "Thanks to you. You saved me."

"I'm glad you're all right. You should be more careful --"

"You're gorgeous," he said, interrupting what would have been a mini-lecture. "I only saw you for a second, but I remember that much."

She let out a muffled snort. How like a boy. He comes within centimeters of drowning, yet still manages to be preoccupied with the female body above all else. Though, in all fairness, if she saw a mermaid for the first time, she'd be a little distracted herself.

"Pardon?"

"Nothing. Just try and rest. You need your strength."

"Who are you?" Zane coughed, sitting up somewhat, despite her warning. "What are you?" His eyes blinked at unnatural speed, as if trying to make sense of the space around him.

She said nothing, the euphoria that accompanied Zane's return from death's door, suddenly replaced with paralyzing terror as she realized this meant her secret would soon be out in the open. It could ruin her. She could be locked in a cage by evil scientists, or hounded by paparazzi like some celebrity of the week. At the least her life would change completely. What would her parents think? And Eliot? They might not show it at first, but they'd hate her for dragging them away from any semblance of normalcy. How about Cleo and Rikki? Would they ever forgive her? She wasn't sure she could handle losing their friendship.

Zane continued to blink, and moved his hands in a waving motion. "Are you still there?"

Emma swallowed. Her control, which she valued above all other assets, was disappearing quickly – dismantling by the second. She sniffled, blinking away the almost-tears that stung her eyes. It wasn't like her to be over dramatic, or even a 'crier,' but she felt so completely exhausted. Between the stress of Miss Chatham being ill, rescuing Zane and now being discovered -- it was overwhelming. Too much for one day.

Zane's brow furrowed, registering the sound of her sniffles. "Are you crying?"

Emma realized from the clumsy way he approached her, a half-crawl half-scoot, that his eyes must not have acclimated to the darkness in the cave. It was possible he hadn't really seen her clearly yet. Before she could duck out of his reach, he was four inches in front of her, his left hand on her cheek.

She gasped at the unexpected contact.

Zane closed the gap between them with a kiss – soft and quick. "Whoever you are," he said, touching his nose to hers, "Thanks."

To Be Continued…

(if people still care)

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

**Filling in the Blanks**

**Chapter Three**

Emma's eyes just about popped out of their sockets. She'd held her breath since that first gasp, and somehow forgot the need to intake oxygen. She was immeasurably relieved when Zane seemed to pass out just as soon as he'd kissed her (kissed her! What was he thinking?! Idiot.). It wasn't very considerate of her, but she was relieved nonetheless.

She suspected he wouldn't be half so groggy the next time he woke up. She had to act fast.

Her options were limited. A) She could wait until she was dry, and try and carry him to the beach on foot. B) Take him into the water, and swim him to a secluded part of the shore where hopefully no one else would be. Or C) Leave him where he was.

There was something very tempting about that last option. After all, he could probably find a way out himself once he came to. But she dismissed it. If one thing is true about Emma, it's that she's dependable. If she was going to save someone's life (even someone like Zane) she'd do it well. 100 percent. Plus, he was acting very strange. He might have a concussion or something and it would be irresponsible not to make sure he was okay.

Option A was out of the question as well. There was no way she could carry him by herself. At least not very far.

_Plan B it is_.

She leaned over him for a moment, droplets of water falling on his skin from her hair. He looked quite helpless, laying there with his eyes closed. She ran her fingers along his forehead, brushing away stray locks of hair. And then pulled back, not sure why she'd done it.

She touched her finger to her lips, feeling the spot where their lips had met. It was her first real kiss. If you could call it that. Not quite the circumstances she'd envisioned, or the person for that matter. But it was nice nonetheless. Sweet even.

She shook her head. There was no time for this!

Back to business. It had been easy carrying him out of the water. Adrenaline had been pumping through her like mad. Taking him back into the water was a bit more difficult. She finally resorted to dragging him by the foot.

Once he was in the pool, things were golden. She had her strength back and swam him to shore in no time. She checked his vitals to make sure he was okay; he was fine. Her only worry was that he'd wake up before she had a chance to cover her tracks.

She swam out to where his jet ski had floated away, and brought it up onto the beach to make it look it drifted to shore along with him.

And then she concentrated on getting dry. She lay out in the direct sun, tapping her tail nervously. She glanced over at Zane every once in a while. He was still out like a rock.

She relaxed a little once her fin disappeared. Technically, he'd seen her in all her mermaid glory, but she hoped that could be explained away as some kind of near-death nightmare.

She looked over at where he lay. It was getting late. The sky was that gray-blue shade it turns just before evening. Finally, he stirred a little.

She watched him open his eyes and look around. He pushed himself up from the ground with his hands, crumbing the moist sand with his grip. He looked disoriented and upset, shaking the sand's pebbles from his hair.

"It's all right. I dragged you to shore." Her arms were crossed. She felt suddenly cold, pulling her cardigan closer around her.

He seemed to barely process her presence. He took in the sand, the grooves in it from where she'd dragged him in. His boat in the distance.

"But I – I went down. I couldn't get out," panic and fear at the memory making him choke on the words.

She looked away, towards the tree line. "Somehow you did. You're lucky."

"There was something down there," he said, standing up completely now. He towered over her, though she kept at a distance. "Something – I don't know…"

He narrowed his eyes, his face contorting uncomfortably. He looked like he'd found something, something he needed, only to lose it again. "Did you see anything?"

She couldn't meet his gaze, looking down instead. "No."

She was a horrible liar.

"Well, I saw something. And I'm going to find out exactly what it was." He said the words with simple conviction, staring at the ocean with blatant intensity. The sun was starting to set and it cast strange shadows on his face.

Emma looked at the water, and then at him, not sure what to say.

* * *

(I'm tempted to end here, on a somewhat melancholy note.  
But I may continue. We'll see.  
As always, your reviews are _**treasure**_)


End file.
